Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project
by Nitebreaker
Summary: My first fanfic, with Klarion Bleak and Greta Hayes. Cameo by Stephanie Brown/Batgirl. Please read and review, and please be gentle. Thanks so much! Oh, right, almost forgot: I don't own any of these characters.
1. Chapter 1

Well, Here goes. This is my first attempt at publishing on this site, so I don't know if I'm doing it right or not. I do not own any of these characters, I should mention. Please read and review. Thanks!

Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project

Chapter 1: An Idle Mind….

"Bored, Teekl. I am just plain bored," complained Klarion the Witch Boy, to his cat-familiar. At the moment, he was sitting at the very apex of the Great Pyramid, in a position that would have been extremely uncomfortable for a normal human being; however, if there was one thing Klarion was _not_, it was normal.

Human, mortal scientists would have described what he was actually sitting on as a "force field," and that was as good a name as any. It was a field, and it did exert force, so that definition did fit. However, human scientists would very probably never figure out the exact mechanics of said force field, for it was not based on science, as humans understood the term.

Simply put, it was based on magic. Klarion, one of the Lords of Chaos, had conjured up, with little more than a thought, an invisible cushion for his pet and himself to sit upon.

"Bored, bored, bored." He let his gaze wander over the landscape. The view, of course, was spectacular—if you liked sand.

"Mreow?" asked his familiar.

"Well, normally, what I'd usually do is pick a fight with someone. It's ridiculously easy, you know. Most of the time, all I have to do is materialize somewhere, and somebody usually takes it from there. But, you know what, Teekl? I'm just not in the mood for a fight right now. Don't really understand it, myself."

"Miaow?"

"What's that? Yes, I remember. Stephanie was…nice. I wonder how she's doing, with the Batgirl thing and all."

"Meow!"

"What? She's not Batgirl any longer? See, that's the problem with the world of mortals: things change so _quickly_. Even a Lord of Chaos like myself is hard pressed to just keep up with it all. So…if she's not Batgirl anymore, what is she doing?"

"Miaow! Mrrreow."

"Oh. I see." He paused while a thoughtful expression came over his face. "Hm. You think she'd be up for a little visit?"

Stephanie Brown, aka the Spoiler, aka Batgirl, had just settled in for the night when a sudden flash of light appeared in her bedroom. "What th-*?" Then her eyes adjusted, and she recognized the pair. "You!"

"I'm sorry; were you expecting someone else?" Klarion asked, in all innocence.

"No, but, but I sure wasn't expecting you! Klarion! You can't just go bursting into people's bedrooms unannounced like that! What if," and here she blushed, "what if I hadn't been alone?"

"Hm. An interesting proposition. Perhaps I could have materialized in, say, the living room…" Klarion thoughtfully chewed a knuckle, while Teekl got down from his lap and proceeded to prowl around the small bedroom. "Well, now I know. But…as it happens, you ARE alone….are you up for a chat?"

She drew the sheets up around her. She wasn't wearing anything but her oversize sleep shirt, and, although she didn't think Klarion would be the sort to take advantage of that, she still had her modesty to consider. Flashing Klarion rated right up there with kissing a porcupine, on her scale of Really, Really Bad Ideas. "Uhm, well, maybe a short chat….What's on your mind?" While she spoke, her eyes tracked Teekl. She was extremely aware that Teekl, whatever else he may be, wasn't an ordinary cat. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been a six-and-a-half-foot tall rampaging weretiger, wreaking havoc in downtown Gotham City. It was a hard image to shake.

"Oh, I shan't be long," sighed Klarion, standing up and walking to the window. "I've come to you, because, well, because you were understanding and helpful to me before. I'm afraid I've developed a bit of a notorious reputation with the rest of the superhero community." Here he smiled a positively devilish smile. "Not entirely underserved, however, if I do say so myself."

"Well, _yeah._"

"The problem is, Stephanie, I believe I'm bored. I'm bored and I really don't know how to handle that."

"How have you dealt with it in the pas-wait, my bad, I forgot who I was talking to. Yeah, uhm, we'd all really appreciate it if you didn't do….those things….anymore. But why do you say you're bored?" Even as she talked, Stephanie was trying to think of ways to keep him occupied and talking. All things considered, a bored Klarion was, in her estimation, a condition yellow emergency. "Say. What about your family? Don't you have some family in, in Limbotown?"

His face twisted. "Yes, but they've gotten this notion that I should be Submissionary. I simply don't want that job." He sat back down, scowling.

"Why not? What does a Submissionary do?" He told her. "Oh. Yuck. Yeah, I, I wouldn't want that job, either." She thought fast. "Surely, you've had some positive interaction with, with someone."

"Oh, a few. But mostly they're all…adults, you know? They generally have no time for me. Even the other Lords of Chaos usually go their own way. That is, unless we're working on some big project together, like a major spell or something."

Something occurred to her. "Uh, Klarion? Are you sure it's boredom you're feeling?"

He looked puzzled. "Well, I, I suppose so. Why? What else could it be?"

"Maybe you're….lonely. Maybe?"

"Lonely? Hm. You know, that possibility never occurred to me. But how would I tell?"

"Well, you want some company. I understand about you and Teekl, of course, but, but still. Maybe you want someone more or less your own age to talk to. Have you ever considered that?"

"I confess I haven't. I mean, I've always been….satisfied with my own company. And Teekl's of course. Always been a bit of a loner. Hm" He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "But that might be an even harder problem to solve than boredom. I mean, what would I do, where would I go?"

"Surely you've had some positive interaction with _somebody_ here in, in Blue Rafters. Or is there maybe someone back in your hometown, in Limbo Town?"

He sighed and sat down in the chair, crossing his legs. "No. Life in Limbo Town is….well, let's just say, I feel I've outgrown it. It's more of a straightjacket than you know. No, there's no one for me to even talk to there, more or less."

"Hm. What about that girl who's cat we, uhm, borrowed? She was about your age, wasn't she?"

He shuddered visibly. "Prudence? You really have no idea. Don't you remember, she was ready to blast you to smithereens simply because you complimented her on her bonnet?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, she did seem to have a bit of a hair trigger temper, there."

"I believe the human phrase is, 'she has issues.'"

"Hm. So, in all your time here and there, there's been _no one_, no one at all that you could, could sorta relate to?"

Klarion thought and thought hard. "Weeelllll, there was this one person…." At that very moment Teekl chose to rejoin them, carrying, in his jaws, a huge, hairy tarantula spider he'd caught, two of its legs still kicking. Stephanie's eyes grew as big as dinner plates. "Teekl!" The witch boy admonished, "Haven't I told you a hundred times, don't go helping yourself to our host's larder? Miss Stephanie might've been saving that for a special occasion!"

"Mmmreow!" Teekl dropped his repulsive burden and gazed at Klarion accusingly.

"It certainly shows a lack of good manners, Teekl! After all, we are guests here. The least you could do is offer Miss Stephanie a drumstick. It's not like you'll miss it; you've got seven more."

"Ah, ah, th-that's quite alright, Klarion, I, I, I'm on a really strict diet." _Like, as of five seconds ago. _ "Teekl can have it all, and he's welcome to it." Where the devil had the cat found _that_ revolting thing? And were there more? She felt a little nauseated, just thinking about the other things she might not have found just yet. _I'll never be able to eat crab claws at the buffet ever again…_

"Well, that's very gracious of you, Stephanie. But to answer your question, yes, there was someone who attracted my attention. Unfortunately she's…dead….." His voice trailed off as if he'd just thought of something.

"I'm sorry to hear that. How long ago did this happen?"

"Not all that long." He got up and stood at the window, gazing out again, his mood pensive. "Hm. You know….death doesn't have to be the final word. Especially for someone with my , ah, resources, and skilled in the arts of necromancy. Someone like myself…"

Stephanie felt chill bumps forming on her arms. "Klarion….please tell me you're not thinking about conjuring up some moldering zombie or something. Please."

He jerked back to reality. "Oh, no, nothing like that. That's far too crude. But…." He thoughtfully tapped his chin. "But there may be…other ways." Abruptly he seemed to come to a decision. "That's it. That's what I'll do. Thank you, Stephanie. You always seem to know just what to do. I'd be lost without you. Teekl, come." He gestured, summoning a portal.

"Look, Klarion, don't do anything the rest of the universe will regret, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Come along, Teekl. Yes, you can bring your snack. You've already eaten off of it; I doubt Miss Stephanie wants it now." The witch-cat snatched up the remains of the spider and leaped up into his arms. "Again, many thanks, Stephanie! People like you make it all worthwhile!" And he was gone.

Stephanie Brown lay back, emotionally exhausted and not a little apprehensive. What was the witch boy up to? "Somehow, I can't help but believe that, no matter how this turns out, I'm gonna get yelled at…." Then she either fell instantly asleep or fainted; she never could determine which, later.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the length of this chapter, but I felt it important for story continuity to post it this way. And I wanted it posted on or before Halloween, of course…Once again, I don't own any of these characters. Hope you enjoy it! Please read and review. Thanks!

The Lazerus Project: Chapter Two:

Klarion stood in the cemetery, looking over the grave of Greta Hayes. It hadn't been too difficult to find it, and, just to forestall any conflagrations, he'd elected to arrive at midnight. At least this way, he could be more or less assured of no interruptions.

At least, that had been his plan _initially_. As it actually turned out, he had to wait out a pack of Satanist wannabees, who'd chosen this night for their "ritual." Watching from the darkness, Teekl in his arms, Klarion sighed inaudibly. Amateurs. The curse of the professional. At least they hadn't brought in some poor stray animal to sacrifice; he wouldn't have stood by for _that._

So he waited while they finished their pathetic little ceremony. It was usually that way; when the Devil didn't appear, they usually lost interest and went home.

Mischievously, he toyed with the notion of conjuring up a life-like illusion, just to see what they'd do. But he really didn't want to cause a commotion; he just needed them to get on with it, and go on home so he could get to work.

Finally, around two o'clock, they left, without even bothering to clean up their mess. Ah, humans. Always letting somebody else do the dirty work.

There. Three rows down, one across. The tombstone simply read, "Greta Hayes, Beloved Sister." Klarion's face twisted into a sour expression. "Beloved Sister," indeed! Killed by her own brother, at the tender age of fourteen….

He let Teekl jump down while he summoned his will and conjured up his circle, muttering the proper incantations. The ground lit up with a Halloween-yellow glow as the magic flowed into the proper form. Everything had to be _just so…_necromancy, in any form, was _dangerous._

"Mreeowww!"

"Oh, Teekl, you needn't worry. Yes, the last time she did target you, but that was only to get at me. This time will be different. We'll both be on the same side. Well, more or less." Teekl still didn't look convinced.

With a whispered word, Klarion summoned and lit the ritual candles, all the while focusing his mind on his memories of the girl as he remembered her. He could feel the magical energies swirling around him, and, when he opened his eyes, they were visible to his witch-sight, a small tornado of mystical forces summoned by his will.

"_De somno mortis, oriuntur, Greta Hayes, surge!" _ He paused, reviewing his enchantment so far. He'd almost forgotten to use the girl's name, a serious mistake-if he'd made it. Had he used the correct verb tense? "_Consurgo! Greta Hayes, consurgo! Arise, Greta Hayes! Arise and rejoin the living!"_

Nothing happened. Not even a whisper of the wind. It was absolutely silent; he couldn't even hear crickets chirping. He looked around. Nothing. His shoulders slumped. What could have gone wrong? He'd done everything according to the ancient rituals, handed down from father to son, and mother to daughter over countless eons. He couldn't _see_ anything amiss…

He sat down on a large tomb stone, the very picture of dejection and despair. "I don't understand, Teekl. I must be doing something wrong. The incantation should have worked. But it so obviously didn't."

His first indication that all was not lost came when he noticed a slight, very slight glow in the area just in front of the tombstone. It was so faint that he almost missed it: just the faintest expanding phosphorescent glow, accompanied by a chill wind that seemed to come from nowhere. The glow seemed to emanate from the dirt of the grave itself, and he watched, barely daring to breathe, as the head and shoulders of a young girl emerged from the ground.

She was clothed in what looked to be a thickly woven hooded jacket, and was overall so pale as to be translucent. She seemed to have no color to her or to anything she wore; just a ghostly whiteness pretty much all over. More and more of her emerged, rising up out of the ground.

Finally she stood before him, just as he remembered her from the previous encounter: Greta Hayes, aka Secret. The chill wind died down as she seemed to gain a foothold on the solid earth below her, but he could clearly see the branches of trees behind her, moving gently in the breeze. Aside from her hooded jacket, he could tell she was wearing a long dress of some sort that seemed a bit frayed at the very bottom, and, he noticed with a start, she was wearing no shoes. No doubt that was the way she was buried. He rolled his eyes momentarily. Typical humans: put up a nice headstone, but leave off the shoes of the departed. After all, with the corpse only showing from the waist up, who will know the difference?

She was ever so still, and he summoned Teekl up into his arms and approached her. She didn't blink, but just stood there, unmoving. This was the _somnus mortis_, the "sleep of death," and she would not awaken from it unless someone called her by name.

So he walked up to her, his cat in his arms, and snapped his fingers in her face, like a stage magician awakening someone from hypnosis. "Greta! Greta Hayes! Awaken!"

The ghost girl in front of him blinked, once, twice, then began to stir; she yawned slightly, and stretched a bit, as if awakening from some deep slumber. "K-Klarion?" Her voice seemed to come from a vast distance. "What-what are you doing here? Where am I? What's going on?" She asked, with increasing alarm. After all, the last time she'd seen him, they'd been enemies…

"It's alright, Greta. Well, I mean, maybe not _all_ alright, but, but what you're experiencing is normal." All things considered, he thought. "What do you remember?" He had to be careful, lest she panic.

"I—I, I'm not sure. It seems like….something happened. Something big. And, and I, I was fighting someone…or several someones. You, among them." She gasped, remembering. "Klarion! What did you do to me?" She looked down at herself, as if she was afraid he'd thrown mud on her dress or something.

"Greta, it's alright. Look. Look at me." Obediently, and not a little scared, she looked at him. "Greta. I have some….hard truths that you need to know. Please don't be scared; know you're confused, but I'll help you. Okay?" He drew a deep breath as she nodded warily. "Now. What do you remember about your brother?"

An hour later, they were both sitting in a momentary silence. Greta had tried sitting on her tombstone, but found she kept falling through it. Why the ground stopped her, neither of them were too clear on. But with concentration, she discovered she could sit. Not that she needed to, physically; it was just the _idea_ of being seated while taking it all in. "So. I'm…a ghost."

"Yes." There wasn't a whole lot he could add to that.

"Why?" This took him by surprise. "Why did you bring me back, Klarion? The last thing I remember about you was, we were fighting. We were enemies. Why did you bring me back?"

He thought about it long and hard. Why _had_ he brought her back? Impulse? A whim, maybe? He wasn't immune to such, but somehow he felt like there was a better reason. "Greta, I…I just felt like you deserved better than what you got, than what happened to you. I don't know if I can explain it any better than that. It just felt _wrong_, somehow."

"But, but you're a Lord of Chaos. I thought…I thought wrongness was what you were all about."

"You aren't the first to make that mistake. What humans call 'Chaos' is an integral part of creation. Without a certain amount of chaos, nothing would ever happen. There would be no change. One seeks to strike a balance, so to speak. Now, I'll admit, perhaps there are times when I have been…perhaps a little, shall we say, overly enthusiastic? in performing my, uhm, well, duties, I guess you'd call them. Perhaps I should strive to be a bit less aggressive." He shrugged. "I'm still learning, even after all this time."

They were silent for a moment. Then she spoke up. "So. I'm a ghost now." Obviously she was still dealing with that. "So now what? Do I go haunt a house somewhere?" She wasn't being sarcastic; she honestly wondered what came next.

He scratched his chin. "Well, that sort of depends. Do you _want_ to go haunt a house?"

"Not really. It sounds boring."

He suddenly stood up, slapping his knees. "Then, let's don't! This just happens to be the best holiday of Blue Rafter's whole year. Let's go to a party!"

"A party? What kind of party? What holiday is this, anyway?" She looked around, as if expecting to see a calendar somewhere.

"Halloween, of course!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the delay in posting chapters, but here's the third installment. As before, please read and review, and thank you so very much!_

_Oh, before I forget: I don't own any of these characters. Would that I did…._

Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project

Chapter Three: The Party

The first order of business, however, was the small matter of footwear. Greta couldn't feel her feet, not in the same way she used to, but nothing would do but that Klarion had to get her some shoes. "After, all," he'd said, "I keep seeing these signs saying, 'no shirt, no shoes, no service.' No point in _asking_ for trouble, is there?"

"But where are we gonna find shoes for me? I mean, I can't really try anything on…not like this…."

"Leave that to me. What size do you wear?"

"About a four."

"High heels, mediums, or flats?"

"Maybe mediums…though flats would be okay.

"Regular shoes, or boots?"

"Uhm, boots, preferably. Klarion? I hope you're not thinking of stealing anything, are you?"

"Of course not." He 'ported them both to the back of a large warehouse. "It's just, you'd be amazed at the sorts of things humans just throw away." He bent over a dumpster and emerged with a pair of non-descript mismatched girl's shoes in his hands. "Now watch: I'll show you a magic trick." He frowned in concentration, running his hand over the shoes as if to clean them off, and they morphed into a perfect pair of girl's boots, size four.

Greta still didn't see it. "But, but I can't wear those! My feet will go right through them!"

"Not finished yet." He drew a pentagram on the ground, point up, placing the boots in the middle. He stood up, head titled back, eyes half closed, thumbs and middle fingers of each hand forming a closed circle as he whispered the proper spell….

Suddenly blue fire engulfed the boots inside the circle, rendering them ashes in the space of a second or so. Greta had to fight back a jump. Even though she was beyond being harmed by fire, old habits die hard.

Klarion erased the circle, and, with a flourish, reached into the ashes and drew forth….a new pair of spectral boots, in just her size. "Try these on," he said, as he handed them to her.

They fit perfectly. "But how…..?"

"It's magic. The boots had to be, well, ritualistically sacrificed, so to speak, in order for you to wear their supernatural counterparts. How do they feel?"

"Better. Much better" She stood up, turning around as she did. "So. How do I look?"

"Lovely."

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Uhm, I said you look very well indeed. Definitely good enough for a party!"

She smiled. "That sounds good." Now she frowned. "However…since we're here, and trying to do things right, there might be one other complication we can avoid…."

The gymnasium was packed with school-age children, as well as adults. Many of the adults were in costume themselves; it was difficult to tell who was having the most fun.

Klarion, with Teekl in arms, walked up to the front door with Greta. One of the adults was stationed at the door. "Uh, sorry, kid." He pointed to Teekl. "No pets allowed."

Greta just hooked her arm in his, miraculously making it on the first try. She smiled at the doorman, and gestured to Klarion, who'd put on a pair of dark sunglasses. "Seeing eye cat," she said.

The doorman scratched his head. That was a new one. But…"Ooookay, then." And he held the door for them.

Once inside, Klarion took off the sunglasses, and turned a mischievous smile her way. "Why, Miss Greta. You've a devious spark in you after all."

"Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And you _can_ see through his eyes, so technically it's really not a lie." She turned her own impish grin on him. "Or maybe it's you. Maybe you're being a bad influence on me."

Klarion looked shocked. "Who, little old _me?_ Perish the thought!" And they both laughed.

Teekl had jumped down from Klarion's arms when they first got in the door. Large groups of humans made him a little nervous, so he sought out some quiet corner. Then he realized something that put a whole new spin on things for him: there was food at this gathering. Teekl knew, from experience, that, where there were young humans and food, there was almost always _dropped_ food, and where there was dropped food, there were usually _mice_. He just had to find them. So he sneaked into the darkest corner, following the smell of dropped human food…

Meanwhile, Klarion and Greta had been busy exploring the various booths and sideshows. She had to make him promise not to use his magic to dunk the volunteer in the dunking booth, and not to use his weather magic in the tabletop sailboat races. "Oh, pooh. You won't let me have ANY fun, will you?" He pouted.

She placed her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. "Of course I will. I'm only asking you not to cheat. Just play the game the way it's supposed to be played. Believe me, it'll be much more satisfying to win without cheating!"

He drew himself up to his full height, a somewhat supercilious expression on his face. "My dear girl. You've obviously never been a witch-boy. You've never had all this Power inside you, straining to be released, wanting to get out, yearning to be… _free_…" He whispered this last word, as his expression focusing on something afar off, and Greta thought she could see something about him that she'd never seen before: Klarion Bleak, the Witch-Boy, one of the five Lords of Chaos, and one of the most powerful magic-users of the age, yearned to be _free, _to be liberated from all constraints placed upon him. Even by himself.

It wasn't his _power_ that longed to be free; it was _him_.

For the briefest of moments, it seemed to her eyes that a miniature thundercloud had formed around his head; there was the slightest flicker of light, like a St. Elmo's Fire, sparking between the points. Then, as if remembering her presence, he deflated somewhat. "Oh, very well. You're probably right, anyway." And in that moment, in the flickering of his gaze, she saw something very few other living, mortal beings had ever been allowed to see: Klarion had, for all his life, been an outsider. He'd been an outsider in Limbo Town; he was an outsider here. Suddenly, it made perfect sense to her why he'd summoned her back from the dead. He was an outsider. She was the ultimate outsider, here in the world of the living. Where else did two outsiders belong, but by each other's side?

_Could I be that someone?_ The question surprised her. And then, _could he?_

They both turned away, somewhat embarrassed by the unexpected intimacy of the moment. "Well, I—I had best go find Teekl. He gets nervous if, if I'm not around." He looked away and drifted off…

Greta stood there for a moment, taking it all in. "Oh, wow!" she heard, from behind her, "That's like, a _tot_ally fan_tas_tic costume!" Turning, she saw two girls about her age, one dressed as a green-faced witch complete with old-fashioned straw broom, the other as a fairy princess. The latter costume brought a sharp pang to her heart; she remembered once, long ago, having such a costume, and how proud she'd been…

"That's gotta be the most a_maz_ing ghost costume I've _ever_ seen! I mean, you can, like, actually see right _through_ you!" The fairy princess gushed, hands to her cheeks.

_If only you knew,_ Greta thought. Aloud, she said, with what she hoped was a breezy laugh, "Yes, it's amazing what you can do with fiber optics, isn't it? Special fabric, an' all." She hurried away before they could ask if they could feel the material.

Behind her, the witch turned to the fairy princess with a scowl. "Idiot. Are you _trying_ to draw attention to us? What if she'd asked about _our_ costumes? How would you explain these aren't costumes?"

"Oh, El. You worry waaaay too much about mortals." The fairy princess laughed as she twirled her wand…

Now which way did Klarion go? She wasn't sure…

At one point she happened to pass by the punch bowl. She started to pick up a cup to try some…but then stopped. She didn't know if she _could_ pick up the cup, or, if she could, and tried to drink from it, whether or not it would all just go right through her and end up down around her feet, like she'd urinated on herself or something. Greta was a very proper young lady, and the notion of the way such a mishap would look caused two small spots of color to form on her cheeks. Hm. But maybe there was a way to _test_ it….

With as much speed as she could manage casually, she made her way to the ladies' room. Once inside, and safely alone (for the moment), she turned on the water in the sink and cupped her hands underneath the stream. At first, the water just poured right through her ethereal fingers, but as she concentrated, she was able to catch some in her outstretched hands. She took a deep, completely unnecessary breath—and splashed the water into her face.

Sure enough, the water simply went right _through_ her intangible head and made a mess on the floor behind her. Greta let out a groan of disappointment. Nothing seemed to be working right tonight!

She tried to lean against the side of the sink, only to fall _through_ both sink _and_ wall, ending up halfway in the wall itself, partway into the crawlspace. A granddaddy longlegs scuttled over and through her; she stifled a shriek as it went by, and shuddered. Two things she could never stand were spiders and snakes. And in her current insubstantial state, it was actually possible for one of the vile things to get _inside_ her, if only temporarily. That thought set her to shivering.

She climbed to her feet, now finding herself actually outside the building, and, out of sheer reflex, went around front to the door. Halfway there, it occurred to her she could've gotten back in by simply walking through the wall, but the thought of encountering any more spiders or worse cured her of any embarrassment at having forgotten that.

The night was a glorious one, the stars above sparkling like ice crystals on velvet. Off in the distance, she could hear the sounds of kids squealing with delight as they received some unexpected chocolate treasure. Although she no longer felt the temperature the same way, she could tell it was an invigorating, brisk cold; not the freezing sort, but a kind of refreshing cold, as the world waited, preparing for a long winter's sleep..

In life, Greta had always been a day person, but the sheer glory of the stars above, combined with the brisk weather and the holiday atmosphere seemed to cheer her more than the radiance of the sun ever had. _I suppose there is a lot to be said for the nighttime, too,_ she thought to herself. Then she pulled herself together, and sighed. She needed to find Klarion.

For his part, Klarion was having a hard time finding Teekl. _Oh, come on, now,_ he thought, both to himself and his familiar. _We really do need to stay together._

_Now now, brother Klarion. I am busy._

_Busy? Doing what?_

_Hunting, of course. _Teekl allowed his familiar a brief look through his eyes, where he spied an enormous rat poking his nose out of a crack in the masonry, smelling some of the food dropped by the children, and no doubt trying to come up with some sort of rat-plan as to how to go about getting it without being spotted, unaware that he already had been. _You see that one? He'll be a fine meal._

_How much more can you hold? You've already had the spider, and that rat's not much smaller than you. They aren't giving out doggie bags—sorry, I meant cattie bags—here._

_Oh, Brother Klarion. Though we share so much, some things you will just never know. The hunt's the thing, not the end product. I could get better out of a dumpster, if food were the only-Hold! _Abandoning his hunt, Teekl raised up, sniffing the wind. The rat, unnoticed, scurried back into the wall.

_What? What is it, Teekl?_

_Danger, Brother Klarion! Danger! We must be wary!_

_I have to find Greta. Is she anywhere nearby you?_

_No. But find her. I smell danger on the wind. We'd best be gone._

Something was making Greta nervous. It was akin to that peculiar sensation one gets when one is being stared at. However, a quick look around revealed no one even looking at her, let alone staring. In the darkness, her partial invisibility served to make her easy to overlook; someone glancing her way might _think_ they saw something, maybe a hint of movement, but nothing more. Still, she felt curiously _exposed_, somehow. Shivering, she drew her cloak around her, still looking around for those eyes she felt on her…


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the delay in posting. If this installment seems too short, please bear with me; all will be revealed soon. Please read and review, and thanks!_

_Oh, and yes, I should mention that I don't own any of these characters. _

Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project, chapter four

All of a sudden, she froze. Not a voluntary cessation of movement, nor a literal freezing into ice, but a sudden immobility, a complete inability to move, even to blink.

"Oh, yes, my dear," chuckled a voice behind her in the darkness. How was it possible, she wondered, for a simple _voice_ to sound _slimy?_ "Yes, you'll do nicely."

Klarion was beginning to get worried. He'd rejoined Teekl just outside the gym, and was casting around for Greta. He'd already determined that she wasn't inside. So where could she be?

He moved away from casual human gaze and cast a simple "finder" spell. There was some sort of peculiar interference, however, and he couldn't get anything definite. That, alone, caused him more concern than her simple absence.

_Brother Klarion, we must be away from here._

_Not yet. I have to find Greta._

_I am more concerned with what might find us._ Teekl sighed, a surprisingly human gesture. _But very well. I sense a spot of enchantment over there…._ In Klarion's mind, he "saw" a darkened corner around the other side of the building. His eyes narrowed. Isolated from the party-goers and the street, and with a low overhang sporting a flickering streetlight just over it, it was a perfect spot for a trap…

_Teekl. Listen. Here's what we'll do._

"But who _are_ you?" Greta was on the verge of panicking. Somehow, some force was keeping her absolutely still. Ghosts weren't supposed to be afraid, were they? Yet she was…

"No one you know, my dear. Just an old…acquaintance of your boyfriend's, is all. Yes, an old acquaintance with a score to settle."

"'My boyfriend's?'"

"Well, he is a boy, and he is your friend, so what else would you call him? As for me, call me Mr. Melmoth." Greta still couldn't move, but the shadowy figure behind her slipped into her peripheral vision. "I have….shall we say, unfinished business with your dear Klarion."

He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he was so overly thin as to appear taller than he really was, and of a ruddy complexion, completely bald, and with a curled waxed mustache. But what Greta noticed the most about him was his expression: if ever she'd seen, or imagined, a look of sheer _evil_, it was on his face, and then some. A gloating look that made her want to run away and hide. "What are you going to do?"

"Do? Me? Just balance some accounts, you might say. Yes. Pay some old-or perhaps not so old-debts. Yes. A little payback, you might say. Your friend did me a grave disservice not long ago. It's past time he got one back."

"What are you going to do to him?"

Again that slimy chuckle. "Not much. Just….play with him a little. And you're going to help me. Isn't that wonderful?"

"I'll never help you!"

Another oily chuckle. This guy was his own laugh riot, apparently. "Oh, you won't have any say so in the matter, dear girl. Or haven't you noticed you can't move? You are the bait." He moved into the light a little, studying her features. "It's a pity you're only a ghost. You're quite comely. You'd make a nice addition to my harem. Once broken and properly trained, of course."

"Pervert!"

"And spirited, too. No pun intended." Now he laughed openly, and moved back behind her, into the shadows.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the long delay. Here's the next chapter in the life and times of our favorite Lord of Chaos…_

_Oh, and once again, I don't own these characters. Please read and review! Thank you all!_

Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project, Chapter Five

Greta thought fast. She tried to become substantial, but couldn't tell if it was working or not, as she still couldn't move. Weren't ghosts supposed to have super-powers? She remembered, vaguely, from her previous excursions, about some things she'd done, but couldn't quite remember how.

Then it _occurred_ to her: maybe _more_ substantial was not the way to go…

She concentrated, making herself less substantial, more attenuated. It was all rather instinctive. _Odd,_ she thought. Ghosts having instincts!

She cast around herself, trying to find Mr. Melmoth. There, over by the garbage cans (_fitting,_ she thought to herself), keeping his eyes on the driveway in front. It was a natural place for a trap; the only way in was from the street side, there being walls all around. He seemed to've forgotten all about her. Maybe he was just so confident of her helplessness that he'd written her off….

Well. She could certainly do something about that.

She concentrated on being insubstantial, ever more insubstantial. She began to sink into the pavement beneath her feet. _Just relax, Greta,_ she thought to herself. _You don't need to breathe; just fade into the concrete…_

She took note of his position. Now, she was fully underground, yet could still sense, somehow, things on the surface. It wasn't sight, but some other sense altogether she was using.

Softly, slowly, she drifted towards the area where Melmoth was. Carefully, carefully, she began to rise…

Meanwhile, Klarion and Teekl, now in werecat form, had established their runes. Klarion stood on the outskirts of the magic circle, head back, eyes closed as he chanted the necessary spell: "_Spiritus nocte, exaudi me…"_ Fortunately, he had saved one very important ingredient for the spell from his previous encounter with his primary suspect….

For his part, the individual currently known as Mr. Melmoth was beginning to get annoyed. Here, he'd laid the perfect trap for that never-to-be-sufficiently cursed witch-boy, and now the brat didn't show. It would be just like him. But no, he'd come. After all, Melmoth had the perfect bait, one no adolescent male should be able to resist. Come save the damsel in distress…he cast a glance over towards the magic circle he'd used to catch her….

She was gone. What?! But where could she have gone to?

The answer came to him from an ever increasing sense of cold flooding through him. _Damn_ her! She was rising right up through his body! Desperately, he began to recite a spell of banishment…

_Oh, no you don't,_ came a calm voice inside his head. _You wanted me; well, here I am. Get used to it._

_Stupid girl, get out of me!_

_And I should obey you because you're such a sweetheart of a guy?_

He grimaced, trying to concentrate. The words of the banishment spell were on his lips…

_Nope. Not happening._ Completely against his will, his mouth closed, his teeth coming down on his own tongue. _Oh, so sorry. Would you like some fries with that tongue?_

_Impudent brat!_

_Sticks and stones._ Greta concentrated, becoming slightly more substantial in the area occupied by Melmoth's brain. She really didn't like it here; Melmoth's mind was far more vile than any spider or snake could ever hope to be. She "frowned" mentally, trying to remember her biology classes. _Let's see…what happens if I poke you here…? _Melmoth's leg suddenly contracted, throwing him off balance. He fell to the pavement, hitting his head with a resounding _thud._

_Stupid, insolent, spiteful…girl!_

_My, you've such a way with words. No wonder you're so popular with the ladies._

He tried another tact. _Let go of me! I can make you real! You'll be my queen!_

_A queen of the damned is still damned. No. _She continued to explore…_ooh, here's a good one…_Melmoth's bowels suddenly spasmed, as he voided on himself.

There weren't words, in any language, to describe the Sheeda's rage. He was long past caring about exposure; now he sought, with every bit of his considerable magical might, to expel the unwanted intruder from his body.

And the unwanted intruder resisted with all her power. It was not as difficult as she had thought; she was already in place, and every time Melmoth started any means of recovery, she knew about it before he actually began. She punched and poked his brain in several places, producing some rather amusing (to her) responses…

Suddenly, he fell over onto his face. _What?_ Thought Greta. She hadn't done anything…

"It's alright, Greta. You can come out of him, now." A familiar voice spoke up from the alley entrance. There stood Klarion (_her_ Klarion!), holding Teekl. "It's alright. He's trapped in a circle of my own devising." As he spoke, the Sheeda Lord's body seemed to deflate somehow, as though the force of gravity had suddenly become stronger around him. Sensing his helplessness, Greta reluctantly left him. She'd actually been having fun. _It's a shame I can't kick him on the way out._

Melmoth twisted his face towards Klarion. "I…you…"

"Overconfidence was always your biggest weakness, Melmoth. I had time to erase your circle, that you had built for me, and design one specifically for you."

"Im…possible…you…" Some force seemed to be grinding his face into the asphalt.

"Oh, quite possible, I assure you. You see, the last time we fought, you bled somewhat. And, by a curious coincidence, I happen to collect blood." He shrugged. "A hobby, I suppose you'd say. But it does come in handy occasionally. Like now."

Greta joined him at the alley's entrance. Looking back, she noted that Melmoth's body was actually beginning to sink into the pavement.

"Stupid….boy…..can't kill me…."

"Oh, I've no intention of killing you, at least not right away. No, you're just going on a little trip. Consider it an all expense paid vacation." By now, Melmoth's body was clearing sinking into the pavement. It wasn't a bloodless process; for all his power, the Sheeda still had a flesh and blood body. And, Greta noticed, he seemed to be leaving some of it on his way down….

Klarion gestured, and the earth closed over the Sheeda lord.

She turned to him. "Where did you send him? Some cave under the earth?"

Klarion looked almost embarrassed. "Well, sort of yes. The circle is drawn in a cave. But…." And here he grinned a positively savage grin. "But not around here. It's in a cave on the outskirts of Beijing."

Greta stared, then started laughing. "So…the shortest distance between two points…"

"Yes. I hope he likes heat and pressure. On second thought, no, I actually hope the very opposite." His expression hardened. "He _threatened_ you, Greta. _Nobody_ threatens my….friend."

She sighed. "Klarion…we have to talk."

At her request, he 'ported them both back to the cemetery. Greta stood for a moment, looking at her tombstone. _Greta Hayes, Beloved Sister._ She turned to Klarion, who was waiting patiently, holding Teekl. "Klarion…..I don't know how to say this, but….." She fumbled for words….

"But you want to go back." He looked downright morose.

"Y-yes. Klarion, don't get me wrong. I've enjoyed this time, probably more than anything I can readily remember, and, and, I do appreciate you, I really do. But don't you see? _I'm a ghost._ I don't belong here, among the living. I, I just don't. This isn't my world any longer."

"Greta…."

"Please, Klarion. You know it's true. I'm only a shadow of a girl, just a memory, really, nothing more. Please, Klarion. Let me go. Send me back."

He slumped visibly. Then he sighed. "Well. I don't want to keep you here against your wishes. If you're certain…."

"I am."

"I'll miss you."

She put her hands on her hips. "Well, I should hope so!" Then she softened. "Really, Klarion. You deserve better. A girl who, who can do things with you, with whom you can grow. I can't do any of that. So, yes. Just release me."

He straightened up. "Very well. Go stand over on your grave, and I'll rescind the spell."

"Alright. But before I do…." She came up to him, and, stretching on tip toe, brushed her lips against his. "Thank you for one of the best evenings I ever had. I don't know what waits for me, but as long as I can remember, I'll remember you." She went and stood on top of the earth over her grave. "I'm ready."


	6. The Lazerus Project, Chapter 6

Klarion and Greta: the Lazerus Project, Chapter Six: Strange Bedfellows

Stephanie Brown was having trouble sleeping. She'd tossed and turned for a couple of hours before she decided this just wasn't working. She had to get to work tomorrow; sleep, _some_ sleep, was imperative.

She went into the kitchen without turning on any lights. Maybe some warm milk… She opened the refrigerator door and took out the milk carton…..

"It didn't work," said a voice from behind her, in the darkness.

"_Jesus __Christ__!_" She spun around, dropping the milk carton, spilling it all over the floor. Teekl, who'd been sitting in Klarion's lap at the small kitchen table, jumped down to take advantage of this unexpected feast.

Stephanie turned the lights on, and saw Klarion, sitting at her table, looking dejected. "Klarion! You almost gave me a heart attack! What DO you mean, surprising me like that? And what did you mean, about, about what not working?" By now, she estimated her heart rate had dropped below 140 beats per minute. Shakily, she drew up a chair. Getting to sleep had just flown out the window.

He summarized the evening's events. "But she was right, Stephanie. The dead _don't_ belong in the realm of the living. I see that now." He looked so miserable. Stephanie sighed. When did she get saddled with this job of lonelyhearts counselor to despondent witch-boys?

This had _long night_ written aaaalllllllll over it.

"Okay. Hold on. Let me put on some coffee. Maybe then I can think straight." Teekl, meanwhile, was doing his utmost to clean up the spilled milk. "Okay. We've established that you're lonely, and we've further established that raising someone's ghost isn't the answer. So. What does that leave?" She paused. "Are you absolutely sure there's no one in your home town for you? I mean, that'd be perfect…"

"No, there's no one there. Believe me, I've considered that more than once. So. It has to be someone living, someone who belongs in this world." He leaned forward on the table, chewing on a knuckle. "Hm. Someone from this world. But…there's no one. Or….is there?" There was something about his expression that made Stephanie nervous. Her instincts for dealing with Klarion were getting sharper. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "Maybe there was? But isn't now?"

"Uh, Klarion? Where, exactly, are you going with all this?"

He got up and began to pace. "Maybe…maybe I wasn't totally off base. But I went about it wrong. The _living _belong in the land of the living. I should have recognized that right off…." He paused. "But _how_?"

Stephanie's anxiety rose a notch. "Klarion…talk to me. Let's thrash this out before you make another mistake, only this time worse. Don't go off half-cocked and, and, I dunno, make some kinda deal with the devil or something…."

He stared at her, thunderstruck. "Stephanie! That's it! You're a genius! That's _exactly_ what I need to do."

"Uh, what? Klarion, no…."

"Let me see, I'll need some supplies…but I know where to get them." He was already formulating his plan inside his head. "Let's see…the candle, the ring, and, oh, yes, I need to practice my spells, especially the ones used against demons…."

"Klarion!" She wanted to reach across the table and shake him. "I don't know what you're planning, but it's got 'bad idea' written all over it! Look, I know some people, admittedly a little older than you but, but, maybe you'd hit it off with one of them…"

He was too caught up in his plans to hear her. "Thank you, Stephanie. Once again, you've saved the day. Come, Teekl." With a snap of his fingers, he cleaned up the spilled milk on the floor, and, with a gesture, summoned a portal. "The plan's brilliant, Stephanie, and I owe it all to you. I don't know what I'd do without you." And, Teekl in his arms, he leapt through the portal, which closed behind him.

Stephanie, still seated at the small table, could only rest her head on her arms. "Dear Lord in heaven. What have I done this time?"


	7. Chapter 7: Descent

_Hello again! Sorry for the long wait; things have been a little hectic. Here's the next chapter in "The Lazerus Project." As before, I don't own any of these characters._

_Oh, one thing I should mention: In case you haven't noticed, my version of Klarion is based mainly on the blue-skinned, Grant Morrison "Seven Soldiers of Victory" version, rather than the TV Young Justice iteration. Where I live, I can't get "Young Justice," even online, due to the slowness of my connection, hence the difference. (Or, if you prefer, the version found in Robin #158, or Batgirl #18.) Be that as it may, I hope you enjoy it!_

Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project: Chapter 7

_Descent_

Klarion stood looking at the cave's entrance. It wasn't particularly impressive, unless you knew its history. It was one of those peculiar places on the earth where, for reasons unguessable, the lines between realities tended to blur a bit. Every once in a while, someone, some human, would attempt to explore it. Most of the time, they came back with nothing out of the ordinary to report.

Most of the time.

Sometimes they didn't come back at all.

Searchers would, on occasion, find a body, or not, as the case may be. It was usually chalked up to "death by misadventure."

But Klarion's people had known about the cave for a very long time. They knew where it led to, or, more accurately, where it _could_ lead to, under the right circumstances, at the right time of year. They tended to avoid it for that very reason.

_I must be more desperate than I thought,_ he thought to himself. But he couldn't see himself turning away, not at this point.

He checked his pockets for his supplies. Once inside the cave, there would be no turning back.

All was clear. He made a last stargaze; yes, the planets were in alignment. Good, good. "Now, Teekl, remember the plan," he told his familiar.

_Brother Klarion, I cannot foresee any good outcome to this. Is this wise?_

Klarion sighed, something he didn't do all that much. Then, "It is probably unwise, but I have never let that deter me before. But do not be too worried; I am prepared for what awaits within." _As prepared as I can be,_ he thought privately.

_Those sound uncomfortably like what the humans call "famous last words."_

"We shall see," he murmured. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, strode briskly into the cavern entrance.

Once inside, he fished a small candle out of one of his pockets. He dared not light it, especially not here, but a simple location spell enabled him to use it as an aerial compass, floating in the air and pointing towards his destination. He shivered slightly, and not entirely from the cold. Pulling his jacket around him, he proceeded into the hungry darkness within.


	8. Chapter 8: Storm

_Merry Christmas, all! I hope you all have a great holiday…here's the latest installment in "The Lazerus Project," and, as always, I cannot claim ownership of these characters. Please read and review, and thank you!_

Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project: Chapter 8

Klarion moved cautiously into the darkness of the cave, his witch-sight guiding him, cruciform in his pocket. He had never heard of anyone trying a similar stunt, so that told him a lot about his chances of success. However, he also knew there was always a first time.

He heard them long before he saw them: a chance rattling of a disturbed pebble, a brief, high-pitched cackle, abruptly cut off. Most demons, at least those who defended such entrances, weren't too bright; they didn't have to be. Many of them were there mostly because there was no other use for them. After all, who'd be stupid enough to try to break _into_ Hell?

_Me, for one. But that's a question for another time,_ he thought to himself. _Providing I survive this escapade._

He stopped, and drew his magic circle with his will, the lines springing into being almost too fast to be seen, glowing with a bright golden light. Here he drew one with the points down; what he was about to do was _definitely_ not going to be white magic.

He almost didn't get it up in time.

The first one came in low, angling from left to right, bouncing off his circle's field with a _thud_, and ricocheting into the side of the cavern wall. It was an ugly red thing, mostly fangs, scales and muscles, which didn't even grunt when it hit, but only sprang back to its feet(? It was hard to tell) and came forward again at a lope.

Klarion slammed a fireblast into its chest. The fire couldn't hurt it; most demons were at least highly resistant to fire and heat, but it did knock it back into the wall, allowing its fellows time to catch up. Klarion smiled; all was going according to plan.

The entire group circled him, roaring and barking, testing his shield. It would stand, he knew, but he was only safe so long as he stood at its center. And he needed them to bunch up in one spot.

He backed slightly away from the center, as though by accident, or to shift the cat around his shoulders, allowing a portion of his forward shield to weaken somewhat. The demons, not intelligent enough to see the trap, surged forward eagerly, sensing victory….

…And a portal opened up in front of them, whose other end was in the depths of the Marianas Trench, approximately 6.8 miles below the surface of the sea.

The horizontal column of water hit the grouped demons with the force of a hundred freight trains, slamming them back into the cavern's depths. Klarion watched as they disappeared into the stygian darkness, their barking roars echoing in the confined space. Water was one element demons seldom had any effective defense against.

Time for phase two.

He broke his circle, and quickly established another, larger one, using another substance demons didn't like: salt. He used salt because he needed to establish a connection to the Earth itself for his next attack.

With demons, there is simply no upside to taking anything less than the offensive.

The second wave rolled towards him, the demons hopping forward, dodging off stalagmites and the wall. They didn't seem any more hesitant than the first wave.

Klarion had established two circles, and the one the demons now drew towards suddenly erupted molten lava. Sluggishly, under Klarion's direction, it surged forward to meet their assault.

The demons contemptuously swam through it, the intense heat not bothering them overly. Whereupon Klarion renewed his water attack, but this time with ocean water drawn from the Arctic circle. The lava the demons were swimming through suddenly hardened under its chill embrace, trapping them as effectively as flies in amber. Steam, concealing steam, rose throughout the cavern's confines.

_Excellent._ Now for phase 3….

This next circle he designed a bit differently, as he needed to be able to expand it somewhat as he ventured deeper, ever deeper into the throat of the cave. He had to be seen as creditable _threat_ to the power that ruled this dark dimension.

Not for the first time, he asked himself what exactly he was doing here. Greta was unlikely to be here, of all places; why, then, did he feel compelled to continue? And, as before, he simply shrugged the question off, locking it away in some rear closet of his mind. Some distractions he just didn't need. At least, not now.

He could sense the next wave of demons gathering down the cave's throat. These wouldn't be so simple as the first; he'd have to employ better tactics.

Now he drew what at first appearance might be a circle, but was curiously lacking in any defensive properties. Klarion stood at the exact center….

…and the third wave of defensive demons surged forward.

Neither Klarion nor the cat around his neck budged.

These demons weren't as stupid as the first and second waves. They came forward rapidly and in unison, but with caution, calling to their fellows all the while. After all, something—or someone—had dispatched their fellows earlier; they had no wish to join them.

But the intruder simply stood there, making no move, standing in the middle of his magic circle. Which seemed to be oddly powerless.

The foremost demon sprang for Klarion's throat, even as his fellows moved forward in a solid wave of infernal flesh, eager for blood.

But even as the first demon's fangs closed on Klarion's throat, the thoughts ran through its head: _This not blood. This dirt._ And the trap was sprung.

From behind his hastily erected illusion, within the confines of his _real_ circle, Klarion made the necessary passes, and then, just for the hell of it (the pun made him smile) waved goodbye to the demons, all clustered around the earthen effigy of himself…

…and a tiny pinpoint of a portal opened, not to somewhere on Earth, but hundreds of light-years away, at an object known to earth astronomers as 1RXS J141256.0+792204, or, more colloquially, as Calvera, the closest known neutron star to Earth.

The colossal gravity, billions of times that of Earth, although only "on" for an instant, instantaneously sucked the demons into the portal. Such was its force that the entire tunnel shuddered, spells or no spells. Several stalactites broke free from the ceiling overhead and crashed into the area where the portal had been; the titanic x-ray flash, more potent than any Earthly nuclear device, would have thoroughly cooked the entire area for hundreds of miles around, had Klarion not had spells, very special spells, in place for just that very event.

He had a _use_ for all that energy….a most _specific_ use…

"_All right, young one. I believe you've proven your seriousness. Besides, I can ill afford to lose more demons; good help IS hard to find these days."_

The voice in Klarion's mind was not one he was accustomed to hearing, and, even the limited hearing of it he had made him squirm inwardly; it's very tenor made him ever so slightly nauseous. Greta's ghost would have known exactly how he felt. "Then, I take it, I am granted an audience with you?"

"_You are. Proceed forward,"_ the demon lord Neron directed him. And into the heart of Hell itself he walked.


	9. Chapter 9: The Contract

_Here we go, Chapter 9. As before, I don't own any of these characters._

_Now, as to some questions regarding continuity, and precisely which Klarion I'm writing about, uhm, er, ah, I haven't a clue. Really. I suppose I'd have to say it's a cross(over?) between the comics, both classic and modern, and the animated Young Justice series, a little of this, a pinch of that, with, perhaps, some liberties taken with the characters. I hope I haven't stretched things __too__ far for you; I certainly had fun writing it, and hope you have fun reading it. Please read and review, and, once again, I don't own any of these characters._

Klarion and Greta: The Lazarus Project, chapter 9

The Contract

At Neron's direction, Klarion walked into what appeared to be a large room of the cave, stretching, cathedral-like off into the distance, and lit by dimly phosphorescent stalactites overhead and burning braziers suspended from the walls and ceiling. On all sides were clustered row upon row of red ape-like demons, all of them weirdly silent. That alone was enough to make Klarion a bit nervous; had they been barking and roaring like the ones back in the entrance, he would've found it more normal.

But these demons were as silent as statues, gazing at him with obvious enmity, every so now and then glancing fearfully towards the far wall of the cavern.

For up against that wall was a throne, and upon that throne the demon lord Neron himself sat, scepter in hand.

In appearance, he was moderately tall, with blond hair and a somewhat stocky build, wearing a deep blue outfit with gold trim and boots. But Klarion did not let that image fool him, not for a moment; what he faced was less human than a giant squid, and infinitely more dangerous.

Klarion approached the throne, the cat around his neck. "Well, young one. I must admit, you certainly know how to make an entrance. But I have to wonder: do you battle and blast your way into everywhere you go? How do you get into a McDonald's? I should think it would have a less than positive impact on your popularity with the humans above." Neron wore a perpetual smirk, as though laughing at some private joke. All calculated, Klarion knew, to cause uncertainty in any visitor. He had to admit, although only to himself, that it sort of worked.

"I thank your Lowness, and extend my similar greetings to you. And," and here he cocked a quizzical eye at his host, "I must congratulate you. The last I heard, you were dead. Slain by Lord Satanus. In simple outward appearance, you look rather good to be a corpse."

Neron shrugged. "A minor detail. At the levels at which I operate, what humans call death is seldom more than a momentary nuisance. So. What brings you here, to my," a pause; "…illustrious," another pause, "..realm?"

Klarion shrugged. He was doing his best to maintain an air of calm, keeping to what the humans called a "poker face;" he only hoped it was working. The demons in the corridor had been almost routine by comparison. Generally speaking, preparation, experience, and skill can defeat any amount of brute strength (example: Goliath), but when facing an opponent both powerful _and_ skilled, all bets were off. One had to play to the other's weaknesses.

And…be aware of one's own.

"I found myself in a state of boredom. One thing one can definitely say about your kingdom is, boredom is seldom an option. Plus, I am looking for someone."

Another eyebrow raise. "Oh? Some great evil-doer, no doubt? Hitler? Stalin? Attila?"

"Actually, no. The soul I seek is that of a young girl, slain, sacrificed, really, by her brother, for power."

"Ah. And that led you here?"

"It seemed like a good place to start. Have you heard of her? Her name is Greta Hayes."

Neron scratched his neck, appearing to think. "Hm. Greta Hayes."

"Yes. Whether directly or indirectly, the dispensation of power unto mortals, by means of appropriate sacrifices, does fall into your jurisdiction. So, have you heard of her?"

"Suppose, for the moment, that I have. Why should I release her to you?"

"I suppose I _could_ continue to make a nuisance of myself…."

Neron yawned, a deliberately exaggerated gesture. "Not even close. You face the Lord of this domain now. Your spells will avail you naught."

"…Or…I could point out that, hers being a pure spirit, uncorrupted, untainted, is very probably an irritation to Your Lowness. I could offer to take her off your hands, so to speak."

Neron's smile was like oil on water. "I see you've dealt with demons before. But there is a human saying: something for something, nothing for nothing. What would you offer in exchange? What do you _have_ to offer?"

"Hm. My soul is my own, and will stay that way, and Teekl's is not on the menu, either. Does Your Lowness have any ideas, thoughts on the matter?" While he spoke, he reached into his pocket, offhandedly, feeling for the cruciform there, and, more importantly, the object whose presence it masked. His fingers closed around it, sliding across its graven surface, feeling the peculiar tingle it gave off, careful not to let his finger go even part-way through it, and withdrew it, as casually as he could, from his pocket, appearing to finger it absent-mindedly. He hoped he showed no expression other than one of concentration and indifference; he was playing his trump card.

The black object in his hand, heavier than it looked, glittered oddly in the cavern's low lighting. Neron leaned forward, suddenly. "What is that in your hand, young one?"

"This? Oh, merely a trinket I picked up somewhere. On, if I remember correctly, the site of some great battle the humans fought a while back. Worthless, I'm sure. But fun to hold. And the craftsmanship is exquisite." He held it up to the light, examining it, and ran his finger over the carved five-rayed insignia.

Neron's face was a study in sudden eagerness. "Let me see it." Klarion held it up, careful to keep a solid grip on it, and not to thrust even a part of his finger into the ring itself. Neron looked askance at him, all traces of his smirk gone. "Is that what I think it is, young Lord?"

Klarion suppressed a sudden urge to smirk himself at the sudden change in address. Instead, as casually as he could, he replied, "If you think it is a black power ring, the weapon of choice of the Black Lantern Corps, then, yes, it is what you think it is, Lord of Hades."

Differing emotions warred for dominance in Neron's face, greed winning out. "Such an object, an actual artifact from Nekron's dimension, is far too dangerous to leave in the hands of anyone even remotely affiliated with mortals. Give it here. It will be safer here."

_A-ha!_ His fingers closed possessively about the ring. "Not so fast, Lord of Hell. It occurs to me, this object could easily be….worth something. To someone such as yourself, for example."

Neron's expression of amused calm was gone so completely as to cause onlookers to wonder if it had ever been there. "You wish to trade the girl's soul for this bauble?"

"I do not know if you even _have_ her soul, Prince of Perdition. Perhaps I should inquire elsewhere. Perhaps Blaze knows something. Or Lord Satanus."

Neron looked as though someone had just put a gun to his head. He _had_ to have that ring. He was not what he once was, and the secrets it contained, an object from the very heart of the domain of one of his greatest foes, Death himself…."Wait. She is….here, in a manner of speaking. You…are correct, young Lord of Chaos," and Klarion could tell how much it hurt him to tell the truth, "in that her spirit is an irritant to me. Hence, she is not here in torment, as would usually be the case, but rather in the Elysian fields, dreaming unconsciously. Very well. Her soul, for the ring. Now give it here."

Klarion's fist didn't unclench from around the ring. "Not to be overly pragmatic, King of Hate, but there are a couple of small details to attend to. You are not called the Lord of Lies just because it makes good copy, as the humans say. How do I know the girl is even here?"

"Do you wish me to have her brought here, to you? It shall be done."

"And what assurances do I have that what I see will be naught but an illusion? Not meaning any undue impertinence, but your word alone is scarcely sufficient, as I believe you can understand."

Neron leaned back in his throne. "Then it seems we are at an impasse, young Lord. You have no reason to trust me, and I've none to trust you."

Klarion appeared to consider. "There may be a way. Is Your Lowness familiar with the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?"

"Myth? Do you want to meet them? Three doors down, first cell on your left." Neron gestured towards a dimly lit hallway, off to his left. "But I see your point. You propose a conditional exchange, a contract, then? In a like manner?"

"Yes. If I uphold my end of the bargain, continuing on out of the cave, without looking back—"

Neron held up a finger. "Neither you nor your cat."

"…Nor Teekl, looking back, and proceed fully into the mortal realm, with Greta, body and soul, then, at that moment, we both get what we desire."

"You will give me the ring?"

"I will give you the ring in my pocket." And, with that, he slipped the ring back into his pocket.

The demon lord considered. "And…if you fail…"

"Then we shall both be yours." Klarion hoped he wasn't perspiring visibly.

Neron appeared to be satisfied. "Very well." Then he surprised Klarion by leaning forward, an intense expression on his face. "One question, and you will answer honestly: why are you doing this, young Lord? You stand to lose much, and gain…what?"

Klarion shifted uncomfortably. It was a question he'd been dancing around for quite some time. "Greta does not belong here…"

The figure on the throne grunted. "Debatable. But that isn't what I asked you. Is it?"

Klarion started to think _Damn you, Neron_, but realized the redundancy of the thought. "No disrespect intended, but I see no reason to impart that information to you, O King of Hate. I do not think you would understand."

Neron looked at him as though scrutinizing him down to the molecular level (which he probably was), and nodded slowly. "Perhaps not. But the question remains. And you will answer it to yourself….sooner or later. And, sooner or later, you will be honest, if only to yourself." Klarion didn't have any good response to that.

With that, Neron made certain passes with his scepter, spoke certain words it was painful for Klarion to hear. And Klarion made certain passes and spoke certain words in return. Such a bargain as they were now conducting actually possessed a life of its own, independent of the twain who made it. For that reason alone, it would be fair to both parties. Unmercifully fair, should one fail to uphold his end.

And then, with Neron making no obvious move, all throughout the cathedral-like chamber, there was a sense of motion, as though the entire chamber was rotating, somehow. He pointed with his scepter back the way Klarion had come. "Proceed. The trial begins now."


	10. Chapter 10: The Trial

_Well, finally, here is the last chapter in this, my first fanfic. I hope everyone who read it enjoyed it; I know I had fun writing it. Sorry for the length of it._

_As to where it belongs in the continuity…as I said, I'm honestly not altogether sure. Maybe a crossover with the comics, Young Justice (both comic and animated), and maybe a couple of Outsiders / AU thrown in for good measure. I hope I, in my ignorance, have made no glaring mistakes. If so, I'm sorry._

_And so comes an end—kind of-to Klarion's adventures. (At least for now.) But not necessarily an end to Klarion and Greta's. Please read and review, and, if you've suggestions for future stories, and would like to send 'em to me, do so. I'll do my best to make you proud._

_Oh, and once again, I don't own any of these characters._

Klarion and Greta: The Lazerus Project: Chapter 10: The Trial

Klarion turned, and, without another word, left the cavernous room. Back along the corridor he went…but this time he was not alone. He could hear someone—or something— falling in, walking behind him. His hearing wasn't good enough to tell if the gait was even remotely human or not…

Once, he thought he heard the one behind him give out a soft feminine gasp, as if the person behind him had stumbled over an irregularity in the ground. Another time, he could have sworn he heard his name: _"Klarion!"_ It was little more than a soft whisper, a girl's voice, barely audible in the strange acoustics of the cavern….and, both times, he _almost_ turned, reflexively, but stopped himself just in time.

How could he be sure? Was she even alright? Neron hadn't specified as to what condition she'd be in….it was very much like him to release to him a grotesquely deformed, tortured being. Maybe the tiniest glance? Just to be sure? But no, that would break the contract…and damn them _both._

He pulled his jacked around him, secured the cat on his shoulders more firmly, and resolutely continued on his way, not looking back.

He passed the demons he'd fought earlier, still trapped in the hardened lava, still striving vainly to free themselves and get at the one who'd trapped them. He passed the site of his first attack, the salt smell of the sea water still hanging in the air.

He came into the open space, stars overhead. Now. He reached out with his mind. _Teekl?_

_Not yet, Brother Klarion. Not yet._

He laughed softly, to himself. "Nice try, O Lord of Illusion, but I'm not, as the mortals say, 'buying it,'" he said, aloud. It was true, that Teekl's looking back would have negated the terms of the contract as surely as if it were his own eyes turned that way….

…Except the cat on his shoulders was not Teekl. It was Energl, cousin to Teekl, and of the same coloring, with whom Teekl could communicate, but who was under no such contractual constraints.

_Curse you, Klarion! I almost had you!_ Neron's "voice" echoed in his mind.

_And, Brother Klarion, be warned: what follows you is no human, but a demon in disguise._ Energl's acute sense of smell had warned him of what eyes alone could not.

_Thank you, Energl, Teekl,_ he thought back, communicating through Energl. Then, to Neron: _Well?_ _What is it to be? Will you break the contract? Will you forfeit?_

He could sense the savage intensity of the demon lord's hate. Then, grudgingly, very grudgingly, V_ery well._ There was a snap behind him, and something growled from more than one mouth as it disappeared back along the path he'd just trod. The illusion of open space around him vanished, to be replaced with the reality of cavern walls again. He waited a moment, until some sense told him there was someone else behind him.

Once more, he emerged, or seemed to, into the open air in front of the cave. Once again, _Teekl?_

Teekl, over by the rockpile where he'd waited, when Klarion went into the cave, dared not look at what followed his familiar, communicated instead with his cousin on Klarion's shoulder. Energl both looked at the figure behind and sniffed. _Not yet, Brother Klarion,_ Teekl "spoke" to him_. She is not yet fully in the mortal realm. But she is human._

_Understood. _ He walked further on. _Now?_

_Yes, Brother. You are both in the clear._

And then did a far more unwelcome voice intrude upon his mind. _Very well, young Lord of Chaos. I congratulate you. You have succeeded where many have not. But now, Klarion, you've your end of the bargain to fulfill. Unless, of course YOU wish to forfeit._

_Very well, Neron. It shall be as I said: You shall have the ring in my pocket. _ It was, and had been, an awesome strain, to continue to keep hold of that which he'd left in the tunnel, but now, now he released his magical hold on the speck of neutronium superfluid he'd left there, a bit of slop-over from his neutron star attack, and held in check by the very energies of the collapsed star which had emerged from his portal onto Calvera's surface. He turned, throwing the object in his pocket as far into the tunnel as he could, and, in one move, released those forces, even as he teleported all three of them over to where Teekl waited. Then he ducked for cover behind the rocks, his arm around Greta protectively.

The neutronium, volatile in the extreme in Earth's environment, obligingly destabilized with atomic force, collapsing the cavern walls as effectively as a dynamite charge. Dust and rocks billowed over them, even shielded as they were by both matter and hastily erected spell.

When it was over, Klarion stood, and let Energl jump down from his shoulder. _Remember,_ Energl "said" to him,_ I shall expect my first case of vanilla ice cream by the first._

_You shall have it. And thank you, Energl._ Teekl glared, switching his tail from side to side. _And, of course, you, too, Brother Teekl. I couldn't have done it without you both._

_Of that I've no doubt, Brother. But,_ and here, Teekl glanced at the human girl, who was standing there, blinking as though awakening from sleep, _I cannot help but wonder: just precisely what have we done?_

"K-Klarion? What—what's going on? Where am I?"

He went over to her, taking her small hands in his. "It's alright, Greta. Everything's fine now. I'll explain everything."

_Epilogue 1:_

_A demon brought the ring to Neron, who took it eagerly. Imagine: an actual artifact from his most dread enemy! There was no telling what he might be able to do with the power of this ring, added to his own…even Blaze and Satanus might one day kneel to him._

_Except…it seemed rather lightweight, lighter than he'd expected. Turning it over and over, he happened to see the markings, not easily visible, on the inside of the ring: "Made in China."_

_Neron's roar sent demons scampering away in fear, and echoed throughout all Hell itself. "KLLAAARRIIIOOOON!" And yet…and yet, there was laughter in Hell that day…_

_Epilogue 2:_

It was well past midnight, and Klarion, Teekl, and Greta stood in the courtyard of the headquarters of the Outsiders. Greta watched while Klarion delicately replaced the black power ring back on the finger of the stone statue of Geo-force's sister, Terra. "But I don't understand," she was saying. "Didn't you throw that ring back into the cave?"

Klarion smiled. "I threw a ring into the cavern. I told Neron that I would give him the ring in my pocket. At the exact moment I said that, this ring was not actually in my pocket… I simply neglected to tell him I had another, somewhat less valuable ring, that _was_ in my pocket, at that exact moment in time. And he, blinded by his avarice, didn't think to inquire." He shrugged. "Not my fault. Well, okay, yes, I suppose it was my fault." Again he shrugged. "But I've a hard time feeling guilty about it. Besides. In a way, I DID give him his heart's desire."

"The fake ring?"

"No. Neron loves the art of the deal itself, of bargaining. In his warped psychological makeup, the act of making a deal probably outweighs any actual gain he receives."

She mulled it over for a minute, then accepted it as one of those things she'd probably never fully understand. She moved to stand by his side, running her fingers along the rough textured surface of the statue. "But why put the real ring back on this horrible looking statue? Isn't it dangerous to leave something that powerful just lying about?"

Klarion looked up at the statue of Terra, a solemn expression on his face. "This is no mere statue, Greta; this is actually Terra herself, or rather, what became of her. And call it a hunch, but…I've a feeling her story is….not yet over. Though whether or not it will be for good or for ill, I cannot say." He turned and rejoined Teekl, with Greta following. "But I've a feeling it won't be good." He looked back at the contorted statue-that-was-not-a-statue. "It seems like the ring _belongs_ here, somehow."

Greta was silent for a moment, still sorting through some memories that had come to her, of her ghostly adventures on Halloween and the Halloween party. She wasn't entirely sure how she could remember something that, technically, hadn't happened to her, but chalked it up to more unexplainable magic. And magic, by definition, is usually unexplainable… "So. Now what? Where do we go from here?" Klarion's heart leapt when he heard her use the plural pronoun.

He looked up at the stars overhead. They seemed to shine a little more brightly than he remembered, Aldeberan, Polaris, and Orion's Belt especially so. "Where do we go? Why, anywhere, Greta. The sky is, literally, no longer the limit. We've got time, this whole world and whatever worlds there are beyond this one to explore. And…we've got the _magic_." As he spoke, a stray spark of St. Elmo's fire flashed between the odd points of his hair. _And perhaps, _he thought to himself, _just perhaps, somewhere along the way, I might even find the answer to Neron's question._ "Where would you _like_ to go first?" And he held out his arm to her.

She took it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And, to him, her smile outshone the full moon.

_The End._

_Or…..Is It? __You__ decide._


End file.
